


An Invitation

by Skeletorific



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, F/F, F/M, Loss of Limbs, Multi, OT3, Post-Canon, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 23:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20515346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeletorific/pseuds/Skeletorific
Summary: Called out of retirement





	An Invitation

It feels strange to be traveling on her own. The woods feel lonesome somehow without Sera and Dorian’s constant bickering, or Cole’s strange musings, or even Cassandra’s long-suffering sighs. Bull had offered to come with her, and she’d nearly accepted: it had been a long time since the two of them had taken a truly private trip.  


But ultimately this was one she needed to take alone.

Almost all of her advisors had been against this, Cullen in particular. “Hero or no, she travels with one of the most well known and dangerous apostates in Thedas, not to mention one to whom you granted the magical knowledge of hundreds of elven mages!”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with your personal encounter with the Warden, would it Commander?” Leliana had said coolly, though her expression had betrayed nothing as she peered over the missive from Harding.

Cullen had said nothing, but lapsed into silence. There was a story there, one Astyth was dying to find out, but she had a feeling nothing good could come of prodding her commander further. “Apostate or no apostate, I’m sure the Hero of Ferelden can’t have much motivation to see me dead. They have as much stake in the threat of Solas as anyone. Not to mention Morrigan is the only expert on eluvians we have any kind of contact with.”

“While I don’t quite share his…fervor” Josephine said, cutting across Cullen’s retort. “I agree with the principle of what the Commander is saying. Warden Tabris is a chess piece too important and too….volatile, to play in private. If we are going to bring her into the fold at this stage, it would be better to extend an invitation for her to come to Val Royeaux. She would be playing in our court, and additionally, she would be publicly lending some credence to our cause that we lost as the Exalted Council. We should-”

“She wouldn’t come, Josie.” Leliana said, putting the map down and straightening up. “Even if I asked personally, she doesn’t like to play politics.” She looked down at Astyth. “I think the plan is a sound one, Inquisitor, and furthermore, I think you should leave as soon as possible. Get away from Orlais for a bit while the talking heads wear themselves out. When you come back, with any luck, Josephine and I will have smoothed a few ruffled feathers, or plucked them. Meantime, Cullen can focus on marshalling the forces we have left.” She looked sidelong at the ex-templar. “Does that sound amenable, Commander?”

Cullen grumbled something seditious under his breath, but since becoming Leliana had become the Divine he had been reluctant to engage in their usual arguing. He heaved a heavy sigh and looked Astyth in the eye. “Its up to you, of course. But I can’t help but feel this will be a waste of resources at best, and an open invitation to something very dangerous, at the worst.”

“Its a risk I’ll have to take.” Astyth said, rolling up the map. “I’ll set out soon. Tell Dennett to have my horse ready.”

And now here she was, trodding through dense woods in the southern end of the Emerald Graves. Despite the Inquisition’s presence in this region, it was clear that this location had been intended to not be found. She had to abandon her horse to even have a hope of navigating these steep paths, and more than one bear skull mounted on a couple of broken pikes didn’t make for the most welcoming of images.

She didn’t know what to feel as she kept climbing. The Hero of Ferelden….she had just joined the Carta when the Blight began, and at the time had been too mired in trying to find her footing in the underworld of Orlais to care for much outside that. After her ill-fated stint with the Legion of the Dead, though, she knew better than anyone what a feat it was that she had accomplished. The versions of the stories that got to the bards of Orlais had no doubt been twisted and embellished, but they had inspired no small curiosity and admiration of her.

And then there were Leliana’s stories. Astyth flattered herself at this point that she had shaped Thedas’ future more than once, but she had nearly always had the full might of the Inquisition at her back. To do all these things with a ragtag force and next to no official recognition….half of them would’ve seemed unlikely. All of them, impossible.

She didn’t know what to expect. Leliana was fond of her, but had more than once described her as difficult to know. Morrigan had pointedly refused to discuss her while she stayed with the Inquistion, and Alistair had done the same (though, likely for very different reasons). 

Bull had always said she overthought things like this. She always countered that it was her job. She had to care about first impressions, about making a connection with people. Whether or not she actually was Andraste’s herald, her truest power came from her ability to inspire others to follow her. She was good at it too. But if it failed now…

There was a sudden thunk of a blade on wood, and she stopped. 

The path wound ahead for a little ways, but she could hear distant voice, and her instincts ultimately led her towards the sound.

“-depends what you’re looking for.” A woman’s voice. A bit out of breath, and punctuated occasionally by further thunks. “Personally, I prefer a little more-” thunk. “Power behind my strikes.”

“Papae says speed is more important.” A boy’s voice. Well, a teenager, likely, based on the cracks. And strangely familiar.

A snort, and another thunk. “Papae can talk about speed when he manages to take down a darkspawn horde on his own.”

She can see them now. A small clearing. A dark-haired boy she realizes with a thrill is Kieran, a bit taller and a little older now. He is playing with a dagger, watching an elven woman with hair so red it seems to glow chop wood. A bit aways she can see a decent sized cabin, smoke coming out of the chimney.

“Mamae, when are you going to say hello to our visitor?” Kieran says, without so much as looking away from the woman. “She’s come awfully far.”

“Visi-” The woman’s head turns, and she catches sight of Astyth.

For a moment, neither of them move. Sizing each other up, perhaps, or maybe the warden is just trying to figure out who she is. She hoists the axe onto her shoulder, casually, but perhaps also an unconscious warning.

Astyth examines her. Her face is etched with crimson vallaslin, an unusual color, so far as she knows. Even more unusual for a non-Dalish elf. Behind the markings, she can see lines starting to appear. She must be in her mid forties, but looks strong and healthy as can be. Her brow furrows a bit as she seems to give up the puzzle in front of her.

“….I’m sorry, can I-”

“Hello Inquisitor.” Kieran says cheerfully, slipping off the tree stump he’d been perched on. 

“Hullo, Kieran” Astyth says, managing a friendly smile towards him before returning her gaze to Sythia. “How is your mother?”

“She is well, but I don’t think she’ll like that you’re here.”

No, I don’t expect she will, she thought to herself.

“Inquisitor?” Sythia Tabris cocks an eyebrow. “Ah. So you’re her then.”

“I am. Astyth Cadash. Its an honor to meet you.” Astyth says, clasping her hands behind her back.

The elf snorts, lowering the axe to the ground. “Don’t know about honor.” She nods to Kieran, who hands her a basket. Tabris crouches to the ground and begins gathering the split wood. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping for some guidance, if you had some time.”

“Guidance?” She lifts the now full basket and gets to her feet, and Astyth realizes with a start that one of her legs is a prosthetic. It’s well made, but clearly a little worn. “What guidance could the Inquisition need from me? I’m assuming you know which end of the sword to stick in darkspawn, and as for not pissing off nearly every Ferelden noble, well, I was never much good at that.”

“Have you come about the Wolf?” It shouldn’t startle Astyth as much as it does. She should be used to it from Cole. But the child tilts his head, eyes bright with curiosity. “He’s not here, you know. Sometimes I see him at night, but he flits back and forth so fast I can’t ask him where he intends to be. I don’t think he knows.”

“Kieran,” Sythia says, tone not changing from one of quiet politeness. “Why don’t you go tell your mother we have a guest. I’m sure she has some choice comments she’ll want to prepare in advance.”

The boy doesn’t seem to mind, carefully placing the dagger on the tree trunk and running back to the cabin, leaving just Sythia and Astyth alone in the clearing. The warden nods her head towards the cabin and starts walking, leaving Astyth to catch up.

“I have to say, I was expecting you sooner.” Tabris says. Her gait, Astyth notes, only slightly favors the false leg. Clearly she’s used to it. Much more than she is to her own prosthetic, at least. “When I saw Leliana’s agents doing their best impression of field mice I was expecting a house call from your soldiers the next week at least.”

“Things have…been a bit hectic, of late.” Astyth said, running a hand through her white crop of hair. “As I’m sure you’ve heard.”

The warden nods, placing the wood by a small heap of firewood near the door. “I’ve heard rumors. Something about the apocalypse. The usual.”

“Leliana will be disappointed when I tell her you found her agents that quickly.” She says, handing her wood. Sythia gives her a long look before accepting it and carefully stacking it.

“To be fair, I live with one of the best assassins in Thedas, a child with the soul of an old god, and a pretty good guard dog.” She straightens up. “And_ Divine Victoria_ should learn to accept the fact that she has a full plate, and not make more work for herself sending people after me.”

She turns and starts mounting the steps to cabin porch. Astyth notes four chairs, gathered in a circle around a small pit holding the ashes of some long dead fire, and a side table holding books, a whetstone, and a pack of cards. Four chairs….Tabris, Morrigan, Kieran, and the fourth….

“My dear, have you seen my-…ah, company then?” 

A blond elf emerges from the cabin, examining Astyth with an amused glint. He’s handsome, to be sure. The lines around the eyes indicating a wealth of smiles, and his hair falls luxuriantly to his shoulders. Sythia’s shoulders seem to lose a bit of tension just at the sight of him, and she points back to the stump. “If you’re looking for your knife, your son has taken a sudden interest in fighting with _speed_.”

“We can’t all heft battleaxes, mi amor,” He leans in and pecks her cheek, pulling a smile as bright as it is involuntary from the Hero of Ferelden. “We leave that in your capable hands. Now, this is the Inquisitor, I take it?”

“Master Arainai.” She bows her head in acknowledgment. “Its an honor.”

“‘Master’? Now that I could get used to.” A mischievous grin creeps across his face, which somehow only makes him more dashing. “However, Zevran will do. I assume you have business with my wife? I warn you now, however much need Thedas has of her, it will take some convincing to get us to relinquish her.”

“I have no plans to take Warden Tabris from her home, I can assure you.”

“Mother wouldn’t let her anyways.” Kieran says, poking his head around Zevran’s side.

“Very true.” Zevran says, reaching down to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Now, Kieran, I think its time we give your mothers some privacy while we find something for supper.”

“Can I keep the dagger?”

“Mmm, for now, I think, if only to annoy Mamae.”

The boy giggles, for the moment wholly child, and runs to fetch it. Sythia rolls her eyes and kisses Zevran. “Don’t go too far. As it turns out, these woods are no longer private.”

“Please, when have you known me to be reckless?” He tucks a strand of her hair back, fingers tracing down to linger on a gold earring, a simple gold circle studded with one ruby that Astyth realizes matches one on his own ear. 

“Mm, you’re right, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Sythia says, a faint laugh in her voice.

“I’ll see you soon.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. Then he leans in to whisper something Astyth can’t quite catch. The warden’s face goes red, but suddenly the former Crow is off, guiding Kieran into the woods.

Astyth finds herself missing Bull, for a number of reasons. 

“I-…” Sythia clears her throat and gestures for her to come in, opening the door.

The inside is clean, but hardly spacious. Trinkets and books seem to fill every surface. Some oddities she recognizes (a stuffed nug, an Orlesian mask, a few books she remembers from Dorian’s collection) and others are a mystery (why a rainbow sword?). Every member of this household seems to be some variety of packrat, but regardless, its cozy, with an overstuffed sofa and a fire crackling in a hearth. 

The peace, however, is marred by a clattering of dishes coming from what appears to be the kitchen. The noise is too loud to be accidental, and there are some sharp huffs that Astyth recognizes as Morrigan. 

Sythia looks warily towards the kitchen and gestures to the sofa, holding up a finger to indicate one moment. Astyth decides to take her advice, and her seat as well.

Sythia disappears into the kitchen. The clattering stopped, but is replaced by furious whispers that threaten to become shouting soon enough.

“-_taken enough, and if they_-”

Sythia’s voice cuts across, gentle and murmuring, until eventually there is silence. Finally, a long heave of a sigh, and Morrigan emerges out of the kitchen like a stormy wind. Sythia is only just behind her but there seems to be some subconscious attempt on Morrigan’s part to shield her from view, as if Astyth might forget she’s there if she can’t see her. “Inquisitor. What an unexpected pleasure.” The sarcasm lingers heavily on the last word, and the apostate’s yellow eyes are crackling with warning.

“Its nice to see you too, Morrigan.” Astyth says, forcing herself to keep her tone light. At other times she had gotten on quite well with the witch, but then, at other times she hadn’t posed a threat to her wife. 

“Before you read off whatever long-winded summons your Chantry has sent you with, let me make it clear from the very start: we are not in the least bit-”

“Morrigan.” Sythia says quietly, slipping a hand through hers and coming along beside her. It’s hard to tell but Astyth thinks she might be a bit amused. “Let’s hear her out before you tear her to pieces at least.”

“I don’t see why.” Morrigan mutters, though her fingers lace instinctively through the elf’s. “It’s more efficient this way.”

“I really am only here to talk” Astyth says. “I do have an offer, but its secondary, if anything. I came here on my own, not as the Inquisitor.” She tries for a wry smile, tilting her head. “At least listen to what I have to say, so I don’t have to admit to Cullen this was the waste of time he thinks it is.”

It’s a cheap attempt, but it does almost seem to give Morrigan pause. That almost pause is enough time for Sythia to guide her into a seat, taking the one next to her. “Well. Can’t have Cullen thinking he’s right about something.” She turns to lock eyes with Astyth, and nods for her to speak.

“So….I’m assuming you’ve heard about my friend Solas then?”

“Bits and pieces. And Morrigan’s been noticing something’s off with the eluvian.”

“And when exactly did you find the time to pry into my notes?” Morrigan grumbles as she sits back. Clearly intending to endure this conversation with as little grace as possible, if she must endure it at all. Sythia only smirks and doesn’t respond to it.

“In any case, I’d like to hear your version of events.” 

“…..well, in order to understand it….I’d think you’d have to understand Solas.” Astyth says. Fingers tracing out patterns in the couch.

—–

She tells the story, beginning with Haven. She plunders her memory for anything, any small detail that might be useful, as she has done time and time again since her best friend disappeared into an eluvian with the promise to bring an end to everything she cared about. 

She tells of an elven apostate, mysterious and distant and a bit condescending, but kind in a way that’s hard to place and infinitely knowledgeable. She tells a story of alliance, friendship….and ultimately, betrayal.

Morrigan spends a good portion of the story making derisive noises and rolling her eyes. But when she comes to the elven orb, and the Exalted Council, the witch falls silent. She bites the corner of her lip in thought and at times her eyes widen in some kind of private realization, though she’s doing her best to mask it.

Sythia, for her part, says nothing. Slowly leaning forward, propping her elbows on her knees, she only watches the Inquisitor intently. Expression neutral, betraying no sympathy, but also no hostility.

Finally, she comes to the final confrontation. With perhaps a touch of dramatic flair, she pulls off the glove on her left hand, revealing a hand of copper metal. Morrigan flinches, just a bit, though Sythia does nothing more than tilt her head a bit.

“As it stands,” Astyth says, rotating her wrist a bit. “I’ve lost whatever control I had over the Fade, at probably the worst possible moment. Which is why I require your help.” She looks them both earnestly in the eye. “Both of you are more experienced than most with the Fade realm. And given that Merrill hasn’t been seen for months, Morrigan is the foremost living expert on eluvians we know of. I wouldn’t even require a physical presence. For the moment, at least, this isn’t your fight. But any notes, any piece of information you find….it may be exactly what we need to save us all from destruction.”

For a moment there is silence in the room. Morrigan has a stormy expression, looking at war between several desires at once. A mortal desire to not have the world destroyed, an apostate’s desire for new and possibly dangerous knowledge…..and a wife’s desire to protect her loved ones from harm. Her eyes keep travelling to the copper shine of Astyth’s arm, as though it is a physical reminder of everything she fears to lose Tabris to. Just as Astyth opens her mouth to try and provide further assurances, Sythia abruptly gets to her feet.

“I’d like to talk to you alone for a moment.”She says, slipping her hands in her pockets and nodding towards the porch. Astyth hesitates for a moment, but ultimately follows the Warden outside. Morrigan decides not to follow, evidently reading something in her tone.

The story has taken time, and the woods are growing darker and darker. Sythia leans back against the railing and gestures towards a seat, which Astyth takes. “So, first question: where did you get your arm?”

“Oh-…” It takes Astyth by surprise, and self consciously she runs the hand through her hair. “Bianca Davri’s innovation. We commissioned her.”

Sythia nods slowly. “She does good work. Not that I have many complaints with mine.” She swings her leg a bit as if to demonstrate.

“Who did it?”

“Best blacksmith I ever met. Wade, of Denerim. He was eager for the challenge, and possibly owed me a favor.”

“….can I ask….”

“How it happened?” A wry smile spreads on her face as she looks out over the clearing. “Its a long tale, Inquisitor, and I was never much for stories. Suffice to say, curing the taint is no simple task.”

“And have you? Cured it, I mean.” She had heard nothing of it.

“……It remains to be seen. Regardless, its quieted the damned singing for a few minutes, which to me is worth a couple of limbs.”

“Lucky” The word slips out, and even she isn’t quite sure what she means by it. Lucky to be cured, or lucky that at least there’s a good cause that’s taken your body? Sythia seems to understand, at least.

“I am. In many ways…..” Her voice is soft as she fiddles with something on her hand. A ring, simple silver, but well worn. “Still, when Morrigan found me in the aftermath I thought she might just finish the job. She was furious.”

“She was angry? With you?”

A rush of air through her nose that might be a snort and might be a sigh. “Morrigan’s had….an unusual raising. There’s nothing she’s more afraid of than weakness. Than loss. To her, the leg represents both, try as she might to hide that fear from me.”

“What does it represent to you?”

The elf says nothing for a long moment. “….you know, that warden motto never sat right with me. Perpetual war, perpetual vigilance….comes across as an excuse for anything we might do in the interim between the Blights. But they got something right with the idea of sacrifice.” Through the woods comes a peal of laughter Astyth recognizes as Kieran. The hunters returning, and Sythia’s head turns instinctively towards them. 

“…I’ve sacrificed a lot to get here. And I’ll sacrifice a lot more to keep it. So to me….its a promise. In the same way your arm is a promise.” She turns to face her. “That there’s hard journeys behind and beyond where you stand now. But where you stand? Well….that’s worth keeping.”

They finally come into view, Kieran on some long-winded musing speech as he circles Zevran again and again. The former Crow has a brace of rabbits in either hand and is listening with amusement to the child’s story. His eyes meet Sythia’s and there’s a glint there Astyth knows. It’s how Sera looks at Dagna. How Krem looks at Maryden.

How Bull looks at her.

“Tell your council: I’ll come to Val Royeaux, if they can provide accommodations for my family.” Sythia says, a slow smile spreading as she waves to Kieran.

“I-” Astyth feels a surge of excitement. This was better than they had ever hoped. “Are-…are you sure? The notes would certainly be more than enough-”

“Knowing how these matters usually go, the notes _won’t_ be enough. You’ll need Morrigan’s expertise, my experience, and a bit of Kieran’s insight. And….well, Zevran’s coming for morale.” She grins, before looking back at Astyth. “You were wrong, Inquisitor. This is my fight. I like this world, and I’d prefer if it went on spinning a little longer.”

“And what dark plans are you two making, hm?” Zevran says, coming to the base of the steps. He hands Kieran the brace and he rushes inside, chattering excitedly to Morrigan. 

“Now, it’s hardly fun if I just come out and tell you, is it?” she says, winking towards Astyth. The Inquisitor returns it: this is Sythia’s request to make of them, and she’ll leave her to the details.

“Aaahh, so its to be secrets then?” He moves to stand next to her, a wicked grin on his face as he leans on the railing. “You know that only makes me more determined to find out what it is”

“If it’s left to your spying ability, it’ll stay a safe secret forever.” 

“Such cruel words from a woman so beautiful.” He tugs lightly on a loose strand of her hair, which makes her cover a laugh as she bats him away. “It can’t be borne.”

“I’m sorry, would you two prefer to be left alone, or…” Astyth trails off suggestively, smirking a bit.

“Not at all, I enjoy it more with an audience.”

It makes Astyth laugh and Tabris blush like a schoolgirl, and Morrigan comes out to see about the commotion, trying very very hard to look annoyed, though she’s biting back a smile. “I suppose it would be too much to ask that you behave yourself in front of a perfect stranger.”

“My dear enchantress, you should know by now I never behave myself without incentive.” He looks down at his clothes with a sigh. “Though the rabbit offal on my shirt is a bit of a mood killer, I’ll admit.” Pushing off the railing, he turns to look at Astyth. “Inquisitor, you’ll be staying for dinner, I hope?”

“Oh, I…” She looks at Morrigan in a silent question. She doesn’t want to intrude. But the apostate only sighs. 

“Perhaps you should. You’ve a long journey back to camp. And at the moment your presence may be the only thing that restrains this one from doing something indecent within earshot of my son.” She pointedly clips Zevran’s ear, who only chuckles and grabs her hand, pressing a kiss to the palm before breezing past her to the door. 

“Excellent. I’ll cook.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll cook-” Morrigan says, following him as their bickering continues further into the house.

“Then again,” Sythia says, looking over at Astyth on her way inside. “Perhaps Val Royeaux isn’t ready for us yet.”


End file.
